


One Minute and Eighteen Seconds

by orphan_account



Series: Sunday Mornings [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Airplane Crashes, Airplanes, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Brotherly Love, Holmes Brothers, M/M, POV Sherlock Holmes, Post-Season/Series 04, holmescest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-29 21:17:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12093609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Sunday morning, and the sun is shining in London for once. Sherlock is up, has been for approximately three minutes when he realizes he’s making tea for two persons.





	One Minute and Eighteen Seconds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyGlinda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyGlinda/gifts), [scarletmanuka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletmanuka/gifts), [Tikatikox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tikatikox/gifts), [multifandom_fanatic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/multifandom_fanatic/gifts).



> Quick One-Shot I wrote in 30 minutes instead of working on my WIP. Not beta'd, but I needed it out my brain.  
> Not that happy with it but hey, this ship needs more fics anyway.  
> (I kept my promise though, LadyGlinda)

Sunday morning, and the sun is shining in London for once. Sherlock is up, has been for approximately three minutes when he realizes he’s making tea for two persons. He stares at the second cup on the counter of the kitchen for a second before shrugging. He’s so used to Mycroft’s presence every Sunday in 221B that he forgot his brother is away on a business trip.

Mycroft began to come visit him more regularly since John moved out, and it is now such a routine for both of them to play board games while drinking tea that Sherlock wonders how they were once unable to spend time in the same room. He could never get back to their old strained relationship. Oh, it is far from ideal, too many things left unsaid, too many scars for both of them, but they are getting there. They both know what’s going on, and now it’s a game of patience until one of them decides he’s tired to play and makes a move.

Sherlock takes his cup of tea to his seat and rummages around for his phone. Mycroft’s plane was supposed to land in the middle of the night. He never fails to send him a short message, even if Sherlock never answers.

The detective finally locates his phone and frowns as the screen lights up. Mycroft left him a vocal message, which he never does. He has two missed calls from him as well, and three from various unknown numbers.

Sherlock tries to ignore the deductions that flash at him. It could be anything. Anything.

The message is one minute and eighteen seconds long.

One minute and eighteen seconds. An eternity and nothing all at once.

The time to make a move on Operation. To take a few sips of your tea. To straighten the knocker, go up the seventeen stairs and lay your umbrella against the wall.

One minute and eighteen seconds. Exactly the time Mycroft took to try to make Sherlock shoot him, back in Sherrinford.

_A coincidence_

One minute and eighteen seconds of Mycroft telling him he loves him without saying the words. One minute and eighteen seconds of the worst act of bravery Sherlock ever had to witness.

_But what do we say about coincidences_

Sherlock opens the message despite the fact that he doesn’t want to. The background sounds tell him more than he needs to know even before he can hear Mycroft’s voice.

_Panic, screams, imminent crash_

“Sherlock, the plane is about to crash. We both know that the chances that the pilot actually manage to land it safely are-”

Mycroft laughs, high and wrong, because he never laughs when it’s serious.  
“I- I wanted to tell you… I love you. I love you so much.”

A deep breath. Sherlock engraves that breath into his mind palace, along with the breath his brother took before telling him to kill John. When he decided to sacrifice himself, when he thought he was going to die.

“I’m sorry for being the worst big brother you could have. I wish we could have more time together, and that I didn't mess everything up when we were teenagers. I never thought you were a shame to the family or that you were worthless. I’m sorry. I was just so afraid.”

The background sound is louder now. It should be difficult to understand him, but Sherlock already knows what Mycroft tries to tell him.

“I love you, Sherlock, more than you will ever know. I’m so proud of you. Please take care of yourself for me.”

The message ends and his cup crashes to the ground, but he can't hear it. He's already too deep in his mind palace, trying to save the memories of his brother because everything is falling apart, because he can't be dead, no, he can't be.

 

Sunday morning, and Sherlock hears his phone ring, from far, far away, minutes after he listened to the message or is it hours later? He doesn’t know. But he knows he has to take that call, and he makes the effort to go out of his mind palace and to pick up. 

A voice, exhausted. _His voice._

“Brother mine.”


End file.
